


Worth the Wait

by missEm



Category: Outlander (TV) RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26552434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missEm/pseuds/missEm
Summary: Some things are worth waiting for...
Relationships: Caitriona Balfe/Sam Heughan
Comments: 5
Kudos: 48





	Worth the Wait

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is more or less pure smut and very little plot. Consider yourself warned. Although there might be some fluffy sweetness mixed inbetween it all. 
> 
> Huge thank you as always to my fantastic beta clairefraser who makes everything better.
> 
> Enjoy!

Nothing seems to be able to distract her from her thoughts this evening, from the restless feeling in her belly, to the all too familiar quivering sensations in her thighs and nipples.

She tries, she really does, but nothing works; not her favourite poems that usually have her transported far away in time and place, not the playlist she puts on to shake things off after a rough day, dancing like a crazy person around the kitchen and living room until she’s out of breath and her mind at ease.

“Oh for fucks sake”, she mutters as she paces around her apartment, barefoot, a large wine glass filled to the brim with expensive Sauvignon in one hand, her mobile in the other. She is dressed in black leggings, fabric thinned and worn-out from many trips through the laundry, and a white tank top. It’s her outfit of choice for her days off work, where there is no one to see or comment on her clothing decisions. She’s braless of course, and sans panties as well. There’s nothing quite like the feeling of soft cotton against the sensitive flesh between her legs, the fabric rubbing against her when she moves, sending small shivering sensations down her thighs and up through her belly to her nipples.

If she’s being honest with herself, Cait has been feeling like this since yesterday afternoon; after they finished their last scene together, he had abruptly taken her by the hand and dragged her away from prying eyes and nosy coworkers. Not that things between them were much of a secret; not a well kept one anyway. People seemed to be content to leave the matter be, and never said or asked anything, though she did feel their curious stares from time to time. Even production seemed to turn a blind eye, but still, they tried to be discrete; no snogging in public or hanky-panky between scenes. Hiding their relationship was exhausting at times, but the secrecy made it exciting, thrilling, in a completely unexpected way.

Everything about this was unexpected; she had never in a million years thought she’d get involved with someone she worked with, had never gone down that road with anyone else before. But with him... it felt like she hadn't had much choice in the matter. It started from the moment they met. The attraction between them instant, impossible to deny, even more impossible not to act upon, and quite frankly, it was the best sex she had ever had in all of her thirty-four years of life.

So incredibly good.

Mind blowingly good.

Satisfying beyond any expectations.

It had awoken a hunger in her that never seemed to be satiated. The moment his hands, mouth or cock left her, she wanted him again and it made her head spin, knowing the power he held over her, the kind of power she seemed to hold over him. He always came back for more, always wanted her again.

The only thing that frightened her, scared her to death really, was that while her intention going into this with him was a strictly physical relationship, besties that shagged or something along those lines, her heart seemed to have other plans. She didn’t like that one bit, did not approve at all, but it became increasingly harder to ignore the way it skipped a beat when he brought her coffee first thing in the morning, or how it beat faster when he looked at her that way, or how she felt sick to her stomach when he flirted with other girls on set, in pubs, at cons... Pretty young things that encompassed all the things she did not, nor ever wanted to; bright eyed and bushy tailed and blonde.

But yesterday, hidden behind one of the buildings the production team used for meetings, he was all hers, his full attention devoted to her. Before they could even catch their breaths his mouth had descended upon hers, kissing her with hungry fervor, as if he had been deprived of something vital, something he desperately needed in order to stay alive. His teeth nibbled at her bottom lip, his tongue roamed her mouth and she matched his hunger with the same eagerness. Her hands were everywhere and she grabbed his face, the back of his neck, pulled him closer, bit his lip until she tasted blood. His hands had disappeared underneath her jacket, his palms brushing across the expanse of her back, burning through the blouse and corset she was wearing. They were still in costume, which meant there were far too many layers of cloth to explore in order to find bare skin. He was desperate to touch her anywhere he could, but when all he could feel was fabric, not the silky smooth ivory skin he so craved, had craved for days actually, he let out a low growl of disappointment.

She could feel his frustration building due to this, and she felt the same way; their bodies were grinding furiously against one another in a feeble attempt to get closer, closer together and closer to finding release. Despite the layers of skirts she was wearing and the thick fabric of his breeks, she could still feel his arousal, hard and insistent, each time he bucked against her pelvis. It made her ache deep inside, in all the places only he could reach, craving him in a way that was almost unbearable.

They broke free from the sloppy kiss at the same time, both gasping for air, but still unwilling to stop. Panting, mouths wet with saliva, hands roaming wherever they could possibly reach. His breath was hot against her face, and they were both struggling, trying to find their footing once more.

“What the fuck Cait,” he whispered. “I… I can't stand this… I mean, I just want… No, I need some time, one goddamn night off, together. You and me. Is that too much to ask? Do we not deserve that?”

“No, no it isn’t… but not much we can do about it…”

She felt tears burning behind her eyes, threatening to well over. She blinked and swallowed hard, fighting against the overwhelming urge to cry. _No_ , she told herself, that was not what this was about. All he wanted was time, enough time to properly fuck her. They hadn’t been able to so much as talk to each other outside work for several days now, seven to be exact, but who was keeping track?

He started kissing her again, with restrained hunger this time, but she could feel the tenseness within him, his body buzzing with a tamed need that would, if not held in check, become uncontrollable.

Fierce.

Dangerous.

She knew this, because it was the same for her. The ache that felt so good, the throbbing between her legs, the waves of desire through her body making her slick and ready for him, in a way she had never experienced before.

Only for him.

She stops pacing around the apartment and throws herself onto the sofa. Her bare arms flung across her face, her breathing slow and controlled, unsuccessfully willing her mind to black out; forget all of the worries, pushing away the weight of the world. But lying like this, on her back, her arse pressed against the cushions, the seam of her tights snug against her heat, she can’t help but rock her hips ever so slightly, making the fabric rub teasingly against her clit. She sighs and clenches her fists in frustration, determined to not give in to the ever present urge to satisfy this burning need in her that never settles, only increases. _What the hell is wrong with her? Has she no self control whatsoever?_ He is supposed to be here any minute, he is just running a little bit late. Like an hour and a half late, but still…

For several nights in a row she had tried to satisfy her yearning for him with her fingers, touching herself while thinking of him fucking her, taking her, in every way possible, even the ways they have yet to try. She had touched herself furiously, losing herself to imagination until she came with a whimper. But the orgasms were short, intense for only a moment, and not particularly satisfying. It simply wasn’t enough anymore, not now when she knew what he could give her.

She wants more, and she wants him, badly.

Suddenly she is stirred from her half slumber, abruptly awoken from her daydreams by a knock on the door. She gets up, straightens her clothes, surreptitiously glancing downwards to check for any prominent dampness from her arousal, and runs her fingers through her hair, a tangled mess of dark brown curls, before she walks towards the hallway. She tries to steady herself as she moves towards the door, again taking deep even breaths in an attempt to calm her heart, still beating crazily within her chest.

She turns the lock, hands shaking ever so slightly, and opens the door.

Sam is leaning against the door frame, head bowed, dressed in grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. His hair still damp from the shower, curling above his ears and at the nape of his neck, a faint smell of his shampoo lingering in the air. Before she can say or do anything he looks up at her, his blue eyes darkened with intensity. His gaze sends jolts of lightning throughout her entire body, incapacitates her. Before she can blink he is inside, slamming the door behind him, and has her pinned against the wall in one swift movement. He leans his forehead against hers and she feels his breath, hot against her face, his body is flush with hers, trembling, burning. He snakes one arm around her waist and without warning his other hand reaches for the inside of her thighs, moving it upwards until he is cupping her sex, his palm grinding against her clit and his fingers pressing insistently against the seam of her tights. She lets out a noise of pure astonishment but he keeps his hand in place, slowly grinding it against her, and she blushes.

_God he must feel how wet she already is… what must he think of her?_

She closes her eyes, lets her head fall back against the wall and moves her hips in time with his touch.

His voice is low, and thick with want, and the words rumble from his throat,

“Have you been waiting for me, lass? Tell me... tell me what you think about when you’re all alone, waiting…”

She can’t answer, completely at a loss for words because he has curled his fingers, pressing them in between her buttocks, and trailing them down against the dampened fabric, the only barrier keeping him from delving within her folds. Feeling her wetness through the fabric, he lets out a moan against the column of her throat, licks the tender skin on her beautiful neck and kisses his way up to her mouth, devours it with his own.

“Tell me,” he says again, “Do you think of me then? How good it feels when I'm inside you, fucking you… I want you to say it, Cait, tell me what you want from me…”

He keeps rubbing his fingers and palm against her, just right, and she whimpers, grinds against him in search of friction, feeling his erection hard and insistent against her thigh. She thinks she might come from this alone; it feels so good that he’s finally touching her, his body surrounding her, the scent of him overwhelming her.

“Yes… yes Sam… I think of you…” she reaches down between them, presses her hand against the hard bulge she finds there, cupping him roughly. “I dream of this… how good this tastes, how good it feels inside me…”

He moans again, bucks against her hand, silencing her with his tongue, swirls it against the inside of her mouth, and she meets him in the same way, bites his bottom lip like the day before, losing whatever control she has left. Whimpering helplessly against his mouth she starts to feel those familiar sensations flowing down her thighs, up her belly, telling her she is close…

But just as she’s about to lose herself he breaks free from her and backs up against the opposite wall.

“Take them off,” he commands, and nods towards her pants.

His chest is heaving with each breath and before she gathers her wits to act on his command, he takes hold of the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head, revealing slightly sunburnt skin, muscular torso and arms and she is mesmerized.

His eyes never leave her as he nods again.

“Well, go on then.”

There’s an impatient tone in his voice this time. She knows he doesn't like having to tell her twice. She knows she will probably have to pay for not doing as she’s told right away, but that thought only sends shivers down her spine, has her chewing on her bottom lip with anticipation.

Slowly she pulls the tights down her arse and thighs and steps out of them. She knows he must see it now, how swollen she is, the wetness high up on the inside of her thighs. His gaze travels across her half naked body as he palms himself through his pants, squeezing to relieve some of the unbearable pressure, unable to help himself.

“Go into the bedroom,” he tells her.

She does as he asks, walks ahead of him through the apartment, legs shaking, his stare burning her back, her arse, as she moves, hips swaying, her folds slipping against each other. When they reach her bedroom she stops by the foot of the bed, not sure what he wants her to do next. She doesn’t have to wait long because he soon comes up behind her, his front flush against her back, his breath hot and strangled against her hair. He pulls the tank top up over her head and she shivers at the skin on skin contact, feeling like she might cry, realizing just how much she needs this, how much she has missed _this_.

_Them_.

His hands travel down her arms, down to her waist and belly and then back up again as he cups her breasts, holding them as if he’s appreciating the way they fit so perfectly in his hands. He caresses them lightly, pinches at her hardened nipples, carefully at first then more insistent, tugging at them, sending jolts of pleasure pain straight down to her heated centre. She writhes against him, moaning and whimpering and presses herself back against his rock hard member, urging him on.

_This is torture.._.

“Please… please Sam…” she begs, her voice barely a whisper.

“Please, _what_?”

She can’t answer right away. What he does to her breasts, his mouth against her neck, licking, nibbling, scraping with his teeth only increases the throbbing sensation between her legs, making it difficult to form coherent words. She is dripping at this point, arousal staining her thighs, her mind blank, her heart wide open with desire for him.

“I need you to....to stop teasing… please just fucking touch me, fuck me…” She is pleading now, reaching behind her and tugging at his sweatpants to pull them down. She knows he is naked underneath, that she will find only Sam there, if he could just….

“You do it.”

His mouth is right next to her ear, his voice firm and rough, almost unrecognisable.

He grabs her wrist and pushes her hand down between her legs. With his hand above hers, he presses her fingers up in between her folds, makes her slide them up and down her slit, focusing on her delicate nub. At this point so sensitive that she cries out when she, when they both, start to rub it just so, circling, pressing...

_Oh God_ … she throws her head back against his shoulder, eyes closed, lost to the pleasure quickly building once again. She feels as though she might pass out if he doesn’t let her come this time, but just when she’s about to lose herself completely, he pushes her gently down on the bed, forcing her onto all fours before him.

She knows he’s done teasing now. She can feel the energy shift in the room and before she knows it she hears him remove his pants and feels him press his erection against her arse. One hand is grabbing her by the waist to hold her steady while he takes hold of himself with the other and guides the tip of his cock into her. He pauses, lets her feel the promise of what’s to come, lets her buck back against him, slowly inching within her. He holds still, lets her fuck herself with him while he grabs at her hips and waist, hands roughly kneading her buttocks.

_She’ll have bruises tomorrow…._

Then she stills for a second and surrenders herself to him, rests her forehead against her arms, gives herself to him, lets him know she is all his, without reservation.

Allows him to take her as he pleases.

And so he does.

After days of waiting, yearning, longing, they are both done with holding back, so he fucks her with all that is built up inside, fucks her like it’s the first time, and the last. The sounds she makes are new and she is not even aware of it, so completely lost to the sensations flowing through her entire being, bringing her relentlessly to the end, _finally_. He fills her over and over, and when he puts his fingers to her clit, rolling it between his fingertips, urging her on even more, the orgasm floors her, making her clamp down hard on his cock, again and again... She collapses on the bed before it’s over, bringing him down with her as she does.

Her entire body is trembling underneath him, his larger frame covering her like a shelter, salty skin on salty skin, him still inside her, still hard, still moving as she rides the last waves of pleasure. She resurfaces, slowly, to the feeling of him planting gentle kisses against her back, holding himself up on strong arms. Then he takes a firm hold of her waist and turns them. He slips out of her in the process and the loss she feels almost breaks her heart. But then he settles himself between her legs again, this time facing her, his eyes locked on hers, his lips brushing hers.

He instantly slides into her again and she sighs with contentment. This, this she wants all the time, whenever and wherever. He kisses her, moans into her mouth and begins to make the same motions with his tongue as he does with his cock. Despite the all fulfilling climax she experienced only a few minutes ago, she rolls her hips against his, wanting him deeper, closer still. In this position he strokes her insides in just the right spot with each thrust and when he lifts one of her legs and puts it over his shoulder, the sensation deepens; his pubic hair rasps her clit this way, making the pleasure almost unbearable.

She knows he’s holding back with all his might, wanting to come with her this time. She slides a hand in between them, feels his slick shaft, moving in and out of her, a steady pace, controlled. When he feels her fingers on him, he growls, pumps harder. Sweat drips from his forehead and she licks his neck, sucks on his skin as he increases the pace, her fingers rubbing eagerly at her clit.

“‘Sam… oh God, I’m so close… oh fuck… come with me baby… come with me this time…please,” she whimpers, letting out small cries, drinking his sweat, and swallowing his moans. Then, through the haze of her own pleasure, when she explodes once more, she feels him push hard one, two, three times, so deep she feels it like an ache in her belly. She clenches hard around him, both of them lost to pure bliss, and he lets go of her leg allowing it to slide off his shoulder. She wraps both of her legs around his waist and pulls him down to her, arms around his neck, strokes his hair that is still damp in the back. In return he wraps his arms underneath her, reaching almost all around her small waist holding her so very close he almost crushes her.

The contentment she feels overwhelms her, this right here, having him this close, their hearts beating against each other, is enough to last a lifetime. She nuzzles her nose against his neck, breathes him in, savouring his smell for all the lonely nights to come.

“Cait…” he says finally, “that was… that was amazing… I…” he hesitates, laughing, chuckling softly against her cheek, “I don’t think I’ve ever come so hard in my life…”

She slaps him lightly on the back, and joins in on the laughter.

“Well ditto, Heughan”

Despite the lightheartedness of the moment, or because of it, she can feel the contentment, the traitorous feeling of happiness, quickly fading away. But before he breaks the spell completely, she beats him to hit, writhes underneath him, not so gently pushing him off her.

“Move, I need to pee,” she says and he rolls off her to the side of the bed, and she thinks she recognizes a glimpse of disappointment in his eyes, but she’ll be damned if she is going to double check. Doing so would risk letting him see the tears shimmering in her eyes, or hear her voice crack. So she gets out of bed and hurries into the bathroom, sits down on the toilet and leans her head in her hands. She allows the tears to fall, silently, but she can’t control a small but audible sob escaping her.

“Oh for fucks sake”, she mutters, getting up and washing her hands, splashing cold water on her face.

When she walks back into the bedroom he’s still on the bed, leaning against the pillows, hands tucked beneath his head, naked as the day he was born.

“You look like a cat who just had a big bowl of cream, mister,” she says, and smiles, because it’s impossible not to smile at him, at the foolish grin on his lips, the mischief that sparkles in his eyes.

“Well haven’t I?” he says and wriggles his eyebrows at her. She shakes her head at him and before she knows it, he has grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down to him on the bed.

“Don’t you have to go home and sleep?” she asks, a little breathless because this is unexpected. He’s usually not one for cuddles afterwards.

_Not with her anyway._

“I mean, early wake up call tomorrow right?”

“”Well,” he says, trailing off as he settles her snug between his legs so that she is leaning against his chest and stomach, his arms holding her tight, his right thumb slowly caressing her upper arm. His beautiful chest and stomach, the muscular arms she wants to sink her nails into...

“I thought I might stay here tonight, if that’s okay with you?”

He tries to sound cocky, sure of himself, but she knows him by now, hears the slight tone of insecurity in his voice. She lets out a sigh, sinks into him even more. Maybe, just maybe it’s not just her, maybe he tries just as hard to protect himself, to not allow his feelings to get involved, to guard his heart.

“Of course you can,” she says softly, “as long as you don't hog all the blankets”

He pinches her side at this, drawing a loud shriek from her. “Don’t!” she laughs, “you know I’m ticklish as hell.” She squirms in his embrace, tries to get away but he’s obviously stronger and has a tight grip around her waist.

Their laughter and cries echo around the apartment, wrestling like kids until he finally yields and falls straight back onto the bed. He spreads himself out, limbs stretched across her sheets, looking like he belongs there, comfortable, home...

“Okay, okay you win!” he shouts, while trying to catch his breath. He throws his arms above his head to demonstrate his full surrender but he is still giggling like a little boy and watching her with amusement as she splays herself across his chest, resting her chin on her arms.

“I always do in the end,” she says triumphantly and kisses him right below his left nipple, lips gently brushing over the fine hair. They are both short of breath, still exhilarated from the silly play wrestling a moment ago, and he caresses her hair, sliding his hand down her back in long steady strokes that make her feel like a kitten being petted. She sighs with contentment, lets her mouth linger on his skin and takes deep breaths... _God, he smells so good._.. Then she sticks out her tongue, licks his skin very carefully... _tastes salt, and sun and him.._. She allows the tip of her tongue to slowly swirl around his nipple and then right at it, causing it to harden, hears him inhale sharply. She alternates between licking and sucking, lightly scraping the sensitive nub with her teeth. His hand has stopped moving and has taken a firm hold of her hair, the wild curls clenched tightly in his fist.

All playfulness is gone.

She pauses and looks up at him. He is watching her, heavy lidded eyes tracking her every movement. Her entire body reacts, jolts of arousal shooting through her, making her slick with want, as if he has pressed a button and she is a nothing but a toy he can play with, do with as he pleases. Which is not far from the truth. She would do just about anything he wanted her to do, because she cannot imagine not wanting him, not reacting to his gaze, his touch, the things he says to her.

He moves as if to kiss her, but instead she wriggles down on the bed, kissing and sucking at his skin on the way down. She bites him right below the navel, teeth tugging at his skin, just for the fun of making _him_ shriek this time, to feel as though she too has power over him. They both know where this is going. She can sense his anticipation, as well as her own, because there is nothing that turns her on more than to give him pleasure, to know that it is her mouth, her hands, her cunt that makes him go wild, makes him forget that the rest of the world exists.

There is only her, and him and fucking and making love and that is all she needs, all she ever will need.

Her hands trail over him, wanting to feel and touch everywhere, the smooth skin on the insides of his thighs, the coarseness of his pubic hair against her fingertips, the sensitive spot right beneath his balls. His cock twitches against her cheek as she caresses him and kisses the shaft gently before she takes a firm hold at the root, pumps a few times slowly and then takes him in her mouth, devouring him. As she alternates between sucking it deep and swirling her tongue around the tip, she feels everything she does to him, every sound he makes like a bolt of lightning right between her legs. He paws at her shoulder with one hand and she turns around, flinging herself across his body, pointing her arse in his face so he can reach her. Without hesitation he starts stroking her slit in time with what she does with her mouth, fingers dipping into her as his thumb roughly strokes her clit.

“Oh fuck Cait,” he moans. “It feels too good… you gotta slow down… I’m about to spill myself… OH FUCK…”

She feels how close he is, but it’s hard to concentrate because she’s also on the verge of losing herself. He knows exactly how to touch her, make her come in a heartbeat, and now despite being clouded by his own pleasure, he works her clit, slides fingers deep inside her, stretching her with two, no three digits.

“I want to feel you come on my hand, mo chridhe… I want to feel that tight cunt of yours squeezing my fingers. Please, please come with me darling…” he begs her and it’s these words that bring her over the edge, breaking her, making her contract hard, again and again until she cries out. His cock slips from her mouth as she moans with pleasure, but she doesn’t stop working him with her hand, stroking him until he comes too, unable to hold back any longer as he feels her hot center clenching around his hand. Her whole pussy is quivering, his cock throbbing in her hand, streams of pearly white striping his stomach and her face.

They both collapse on the bed, exhausted, panting as they try to catch their breath. She turns and lays flat on her stomach next to him, resting on her elbows, a cheeky smile on her lips, which she licks making a humming sound.

“What?” he says as he watches her

“Well Mr Heughan”, she replies, “It seems that you have made a mess of things, my face is all sticky”. She strokes her cheek with her fingertips, straight through a streak of his cum, and then sticks them in her mouth, languidly sucking at first one finger and then the other, twirling her tongue around the tips as she does. Then she leans in and softly brushes her lips against his, testing his boundaries by doing so, before parting her lips and gently prodes his mouth open with her tongue. She can feel his hesitation for a split second before he kisses her back, sucking at her tongue and lips, devouring her mouth with his. The taste of his cum mixed with the taste of him makes her dizzy with want and she can’t help but smile against his mouth because what is this fucking power he holds over her? _How is it possible to want someone the way she wants him? Will it ever stop?_

She breaks from the kiss, places a hand on his chest and laughs softly, nuzzles the tip of her nose against his.

“I need a shower,” she declares, before turning to him with a meaningful look, raising her eyebrows at his midsection. “And so do you, I think”

“I thought you liked your men a little dirty, Balfe?”

“Aye” she teases, “but I also like them squeaky clean, wet and smelling of soap”

“Do ye now?” he teases back with a smirk on his lips, and follows her into the bathroom.

Under the hot streaming water he wraps his arms around her, holds her close, his arms reaching all the way around her waist and she has never felt more safe, more content. They sway like this in almost silence; the only sounds are the water gushing down around them, the beating of her own heart against his, the low rumble of his voice against her hair. She cannot make out what he’s saying, and it doesn’t really matter. She somehow knows by the way he completely melts into her, the racing of his heart, the way it feels. He won’t ever let go, and she would let him hold her for an eternity... She presses her mouth against his throat, caresses his arms, neck, back, relishes in the feel of his big, strong body fully pressed against hers.

Feels him harden again, against her belly.

“Hey there” she whispers, and he laughs softly.

“I canna help it ye ken, it’s all your fault.” He tries to make it out to be a joke, but there is something in his voice, something different.

He takes her face in his hands and looks at her. She sees him swallow, bites his lip, looks away for a second.

“It really is your fault” he repeats, holds her gaze steady, eyes bluer than she can remember ever seeing them. “Does it ever stop, the wanting you? Because I think I’m going crazy here…” he trails off, leaning his forehead against hers.

“I don’t know.” Her voice is barely a whisper, “but I don’t think I want it to…”

“No, me neither…”

She inhales sharply, filling her lungs with air. It’s as if she’s been holding her breath for a very long time, as if a heavy weight has been lifted from her shoulders.

He backs her up against the tile wall, kisses her, soft and hard, delicate and fierce, as if they’ve been starved of one another’s touch for weeks. It ignites the desire in her belly once more, makes her grind herself against his thigh, wanting him to take her right this second but also wanting him to be slow and gentle with her this time. Somehow he senses her impatience and lifts her up, guides himself inside her and she sinks down on him, safely held up by his strong hands on the back of her thighs. Once he’s fully buried in her warm centre he pauses, all the while his eyes are locked with hers. He kisses her as he moves, steady thrusts, unbearably slow, unbelievably good, until they both crave more. There’s a need... to feel it deeper. She’s lost in the feeling of him, inside her, against her and is barely aware when he maneuvers them out of the shower, and down onto the carpet of the bathroom floor.

There, with his mouth on hers and eyes wide open, he makes love to her, worships her body with his.

It feels so different from all the other times before, but it also feels so right. It seems as though this is exactly what she has been seeking this entire time. The complete surrender of body and soul; a connection stronger than anything she's ever felt before. Right then and there she decides to give in to her heart’s desires, to give in to loving this man. It’s scary, terrifying and she’s still filled with uncertainties, but she doesn’t think she cares anymore. And she can tell, by the way he can’t seem to take his eyes off her, neither does he.

When they finally come undone, together, he moans her name in short gasps against her mouth, and her heart cracks wide open. Tears are streaming down her cheeks, his eyes glistening as he watches her intently, seemingly forcing himself to keep watching until everything becomes still, quite, calm.

He wipes away her tears with his fingertips, touches her soft skin in such a way it feels as if she is the most precious thing in the world to him, and then curls up by her side, holding on tight.

“How do you feel?” he mumbles, pulling her closer to him.

“Fine” she whispers, smiling through the tears. She traces the line of his jaw with the tip of her nose, nuzzles his cheek, revelling in the feel of his scruff against her softer skin and sighs. Stroking his jawline and his lips with her fingertips.

“I feel fine.”


End file.
